Monday marked the tenth anniversary of Roman Abramovich’s arrival at Chelsea, sauntering through the gates of Stamford Bridge with his burly troupe of henchmen and altering the Premier League forever. By the time everyone’s favourite Russian oligarch turned up in 2003, football had already undergone a revolution on the pitch: Before the henchmen came the Frenchmen, with Arsene Wenger’s new-age arsenal of yoga, yoghurts and young Gallic imports transforming the highest level of the English game into something rather sexier than the old Division One. In fact, it was this fresh brand of fluid, ultra-athletic and attacking football that attracted Abramovich to our shores in the first place, thrilled by Manchester United’s high-octane 4-3 dismantling of Real Madrid in 2002.

But Abramovich’s arrival led to a second great paradigm shift in English football – the game off the pitch is barely recognisable from ten years ago. Our man Roman cannot be held entirely responsible for the enormous influx of money into the Premier League, he’s had a hand both from TV rights (recently renegotiated to a minimum of £60m per team per season) and other foreign tycoons, but he certainly set a precedent as the first ever mega-bucks chairman to muscle in from abroad, effectively buying the Premier League. Blackburn had, of course, won the league on the back of enormous financial investment in 1994-5, but the circumstances were rather different; by the time the Abramovich era began, more than a decade of the Sky-fuelled ‘Premiership’ had moved the financial goalposts somewhat. Abramovich proved to the bored billionaires of the world that our silverware was, essentially, on sale. Moreover, in football he found a different (and rather more exciting) product on sale, unavailable in any other market: people.

Abramovich’s tenure has been characterised more than anything by the ruthless hiring and firing of personnel, playing or managerial. Anyone who, like myself, has ever gleefully indulged in Football Manager, will be familiar with the addictive thrill that derives from the pseudo-omnipotence created by prodding around the great sporting stars of the world like ants. One can only imagine the sort of exhilaration that comes with this power in real life. (There have certainly been a number of occasions on which Chelsea’s owner has seemed very much like a spoilt child throwing his Playstation out of the pram.) It is no secret that he has made a significant financial loss on the club; Chelsea FC have been a very expensive, but very entertaining plaything.

And how he has played with it. Before his time, most of the top clubs had had a couple of foreign superstars: a Cantona here, a Klinsmann there, a Bergkamp, a Zola or a Di Canio. But these players were very much a luxury, crowd-pleasing extravagances. In the Abramovich era, it has become quite common to see the cream of world football gracing our fields. His early spending brought him Cech, Drogba, Essien, Makelele, Veron, and Crespo, the great hopes and the Galacticos, and egged on by his success, the Premier League has attracted all number of exotic speculators, from the Glazers to the Sheikh Mansour’s Abu Dhabi group, Stan Kroenke to Randy Lerner. Not all have been successful – notably the incompetent Venkys at Blackburn – and some have even had the ambition to build from below, like Tony Fernandes at QPR or Niccola Cortese at Southampton. But across the land, we have seen foreign emperors putting huge deposits down for their own little sporting colonies.

The results have been extraordinary. The new spending civil war has privileged us with the presence of some of the finest athletes in the world, and performances on a weekly basis. For a brief period, we had the dominant league in the world, ruling the latter stages of the Champions League, and stealing the finest crop of the continent, the Ronaldos and the Fabregases and the Robbens. We have since ceded superiority to the Spaniards, and the Germans, but such is the fickle nature of world football that our time will no doubt come again soon. The Abramovich era has blessed us with a national game of the highest quality – even this one-eyed Arsenal fan can admit that.

Wimbledon will be finished by the time you are reading this. The Lions’ tour is already done and dusted. Football’s summer party of sorts at the Confederations’ Cup is already well on its way to becoming a dim, distant, and acrimonious memory; it’d be easy to think that 2013’s summer sporting efforts are but a footnote compared to last year’s Olympian extravaganza.

However, it’d be a mistake to get started on that reading list just yet. With both major and minor events punctuating the rest of the vac – all the way to September – here is  Cherwell’s guide to what not to miss when you fancy convincing yourself that exercising vicariously through what you watch on TV actually counts…

The elephant in the room is of course the Ashes. Twenty-five days worth of trying to confirm Australia’s sporting fall from grace. The England squad has just been announced with no real surprises, and the coming Wednesday sees the beginning of the first test at Trent Bridge, Nottingham. Stretching right across the summer, the Aussies will be hoping that a late, late change of coach – ex-player Darren Lehmann replacing Mickey Arthur less than 3 weeks before can inspire them to prolong the competition all the way to August 25^th at the Oval. Alastair Cook’s side will of course be hoping to have the urn safely locked away long before then.

The next fortnight will also see the culmination of Christopher Froome’s efforts to replicate Sir Bradley Wiggins’ Tour de France success. The first week of the cycling race has seen the Kenyan-born Brit put himself just over a minute clear in the Yellow Jersey of the race leader. With many Alps still yet to be climbed though, it remains to be seen how the likes of Alberto Contador and Alejandro Valverde fight back.

Anyone in need of a football fix need look no further than the beginning of this month’s women’s Euro 2013 tournament. In contrast to the men’s team, the England women will have a real chance of making a mark against traditional giants Germany and France, and the tournament will see winger Rachel Yankey take to the pitch as the most capped English international player of any gender.

Mid-August will then see the World Athletics championships take place in Moscow. Central to proceedings will of course be the likes of Usain Bolt and Yohan Blake, but the women’s sprints are perhaps more intriguing, as the sport will look to escape the shadow of a recent Jamaican drug scandal involving Olympic gold-medallist Veronica Campbell-Brown. In general it will be fascinating to see how many big names bounce back from a draining Olympic year.

There are also two golf major championships over the summer. With the two majors so far having gone to first time winners in Justin Rose and Adam Scott, will there be another surprise in either the Open or the USPGA? The likes of Rory McIlroy will be desperate to arrest a run of poor form, Tiger Woods will be looking to prove he can win a big title again, and it’s getting to ‘now or never’ for players such as Luke Donald, Lee Westwood, and Sergio Garcia.

If all of that wasn’t enough, Andy Murray’s chance to repeat last year’s success at the US Open in early September could be the beginning of a move towards true tennis all-time great status, whilst the football and rugby seasons will both have restarted by the time Michaelmas begins. There is also cricket’s County Championship to consider, whilst Super League rugby will be edging towards its denouement, and cycling will have its third grand tour, the Vuelta à España which will be a chance to make amends should the Tour de France not go as planned.

All in all then, I don’t think that you can argue that there’s not plenty to keep you going over what is promising to be a very long ‘Long Vacation’, but if you’re still at a loose end, it’ll be well worth checking out the Beach Football World Cup in Tahiti, or even just reading up on the much anticipated Rugby League World Cup – hosted by England and Wales – which will be likely to provide much procrastination fodder next October.

I think I’ve underlined eleven separate sporting events, and that’s barely scratching the surface – and definitely not taking account of the fact that the ashes surely counts as five? – and here at the Cherwell we’ll be doing our best to keep you abreast of as much of the action as possible. There really is no excuse to miss out on this fabulous sporting summer. 

Perhaps as a result of the enforced silence during all matchplay, tennis has a less illustrious musical heritage than other sports. Cricket boasts the considered intellectualism of The Duckforth Lewis Method, whilst football’s raucous hits are perhaps best represented by the joyous World In Motion, but we have to look a little further afield to find lyrical contemplation of tennis, that most psychological of sports.

Foals- The French Open (Live on KEXP)

Typically fidgety fare from Oxford’s own. This live version has a bit more panache than the studio cut- as one astute Youtuber has pointed out, the drummer’s squeals would not sound out of place following a vicious backhand in the ladies’ singles. “D’air sur la terre” is a beautifully evocative description of the game as played by its most graceful practitioners.

Skizzy Mars ft G-Eazy- Pay for You

In this delightful piece of lo-fi hip-hop Americana, tennis represents the affluent lifestyle of the fictional party girl who takes the down-on-his-luck narrator under her wing (“Tennis lessons? I wonder what those Lacosted”). A pleasing lyrical subversion of the normal flow of hip-hop cash from sugar daddies to female hangers-on is tied to a sample just the right side of mournful.

The Shins- Turn A Square

“She shone up bright like a knife/wearing tennis shorts made of stripes/hand in hand to the grass and we got it right/got it nice, nice, nice/just a glimpse of an ankle and I/react like it’s 1805”. One for any young men who have felt a quiver of excitement at the sight of the stately blonde Russians and buxom Belgians of the ladies’ tournament (or indeed any girls similarly titillated by the brawny biceps on display over on the mens’ courts). 

Lorde- Tennis Court (Cymbol 303 remix)

In the original track by the soon-to-be-huge 16-year-old New Zealand electro-pop waif, the tennis court is the site of a clandestine tryst between teenaged lovers. This remix adds bite to the track.

De La Soul- Tennis

De La Soul’s Plug 1 and Plug 2 Present… First Serve is the unwieldly title of De La Soul’s 2012 concept album concerning the struggles of two young up-and-coming rappers. Dave, the rapper who makes up one half of the project alongside Posdnuous, explains the imagery:

“I love watching tennis. [The title] is a lyrical thing, wordplay. It’s the perfect match. The falling in love and out of love relationship between the two guys. It refers to a tennis vibe.” 

I’m not sure Andy Murray has much love to spare for Novak Djokovic, but De La Soul have never been ones to shy away from a stretched metaphor, or from timeless hip-hop joints like this. 

Booker T & The MG’s- Gotta Serve Somebody

A tenuous semantic link, but no matter. This electrifying performance has far more clout than Bob Dylan’s version of the same joint, making the more famous Dylan track sound [insert heavy-handed tennis metaphor of your choice here]. The band learnt over 80 tracks for this performance, and this ferocious commitment is reflected in the tightness of their groove. I only wish rock bands still came with sub-gospel backing singers dancing in unison.

Indian Wells- Wimbledon 1980

“Italian mysterious producer(s) declinating tennis aesthetic with nocturne electronic sounds”, according to their record label. The percussive striking of the ball punctuates an eerie, gritty soundscape full of brushes of noise and moments of dark, looming tension.

Cream- Anyone For Tennis

Obviously.